Getting It Right
by shannondaskies
Summary: He only wanted her attention - it couldn't be that hard! Lucissa at Hogwarts, WIP, reviews appreciated more than caffeine on a Monday morning and that's a LOT .
1. September

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**_With thanks to Crookshanks.x and SailTheStars for their support, encouragement, and pointing out of inconsistencies. Any further mistakes are mine.

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**Chapter 1**

A hand closed over her wrist just as she was about to complete the final wand movement.

"You're doing it wrong."

That supercilious drawl could only belong to one person, and Narcissa knew if she turned around, she would see a smug smirk on the face of Lucius Malfoy. She also knew she would be tempted to wipe it away with her fist, but ladies didn't punch people no matter how much they deserved it. So instead she took a deep breath, smiled tightly and prayed her voice would be even.

"How would you know?"

Narcissa Black's Charms marks were currently the best in the school, despite her being only two weeks into her sixth year, and the best Slytherin House had seen since some decades-ago Head Boy called Tom Riddle sat his NEWTs. Everyone knew that. Lucius Malfoy's Charms marks were merely average, since he spent most of his time haranguing the Quidditch team and using his position as Captain and Head Boy to flirt with anything in a skirt. Everyone knew that, too. So for him to tell her she was doing it wrong, and in the Common Room no less… well. You could have heard a pin drop.

Reaching up with her other hand to remove his fingers from her wrist, she turned to face him, folding her arms and giving him an expectant look. He was smirking at her – just like she _knew_ he would be – and his tone was condescending as he replied, "I may not suck up to Flitwick the way you do, Black, but even I know you can't make a Colour Change Charm permanent." Unspoken was the fact he clearly thought her foolish for even trying.

Her eyes narrowed. She didn't suck up to Flitwick at all. She paid attention and did extra credit, because the diminutive Professor had told her she had a very good chance at earning her Charms Mastery if she worked hard. And Narcissa _wanted_ that Mastery. It was her only way out of the life her parents had planned for her. She refused to marry Crabbe or Goyle, who were the most recent names being bandied about. Pucey was a possibility – Alistair was decent enough, she supposed, and Xavier Nott was certainly easy on the eyes… but she didn't want to marry straight out of school. Narcissa wanted to see the world, and the only way to do that was an apprenticeship to a Master. So, she worked on her Charms.

A snap decision and a quick flick of her wand finished the spell she'd started earlier, and she gave Malfoy a smug look.

"Try and change it back, then."

Stepping to one side, she indicated the cushion she'd changed from a faded black to brilliant sapphire blue. He raised an eyebrow at her, but Narcissa knew he wouldn't back down from a challenge – he never could. She was counting on it, in fact.

"Unless you think you can't," she goaded him.

The lazy smirk on his face tightened to a sneer, and he glanced around the Common Room for what anyone else would have been reassurance, but for him… well, she wouldn't venture to say.

"Fine," he snapped. "I'll play your little game. _Finite Incantatum_."

But the cushion stayed blue, and a mutter went through the younger crowd. Lucius Malfoy was their idol, and he had just failed.

A slow smile began to curl Narcissa's lips. "Care to try again?"

He glared at her, and his stance and aim became much more focussed. "_Termino Incantatum!_"

The higher-level spell made no difference, and the almost obstinately sapphire hue of the cushion was practically taunting him. Lucius turned to her with an accusing and faintly impressed look. Narcissa merely smiled, and said mildly, "Tempus clause and inflection change with a modified wand movement. Perhaps you should study harder?"

Turning her back on him, Narcissa left the Common Room, closing the door on shocked silence. She couldn't keep the massive grin from her face as she walked down the corridor, though it quickly disappeared when she heard the irritating nasal tones of Lucinda Parkinson from behind her.

"Suppose you thought that was clever, Black?"

Sighing to herself, Narcissa stopped walking, and turned to face the seventh year. She didn't respond, knowing that girls like Lucinda loved to hear themselves speak, and she only had to wait for the twit to get annoyed and blurt out her reason for following. One raised eyebrow and five seconds of awkward silence later and she got what she wanted.

"Showing off the way you did," Lucinda sneered, twisting what was otherwise a quite pretty smile into something rather ugly. "You think he's going to want that? 'Perhaps you should study harder'!" Her mimicry was cruelly accurate.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "What makes you think I want him? Malfoy is an arrogant berk."

Lucinda huffed, and tossed her long, unnaturally blonde hair over her shoulder. "Please. You're playing a classic game of hard to get. Ignoring him? Making him think you don't like him? You're so obvious." The older girl stepped closer, and Narcissa was uncomfortably aware of the weight and height advantage Lucinda had. She hated the fact that she did not have the height of her sisters, and Parkinson knew it, and loomed over her.

"He doesn't want _you_," she breathed near Narcissa's ear. "Not when he can have me." Stepping back, she indicated her admittedly stunning curves – something else Narcissa did not possess – and smirked nastily. "So back off, little girl."

Narcissa fought back a cutting remark. It wouldn't do to anger Lucinda; she and her twin brother were into the Dark Arts and didn't care who knew it. Narcissa herself had a moderate interest in them, since she was both a Black and a Slytherin, but she didn't advertise it. Far better to hex and not be suspected. Instead, she smiled coolly and replied, "You're welcome to him, Parkinson."

Just then, the door to the Common Room banged open and both girls turned to see the subject of their discussion stumble into the corridor, a slim brunette wrapped around him. Narcissa had to hide her smirk when he made sure that they were both watching before he pressed Prudence Avery – for that's who was clinging to him like a limpet – into the wall and kissed her passionately. Prudence was very pleased with this development, and made that known with breathy moans and gasps as Lucius kissed his way down her neck, his hands busy somewhere under her shirt.

"That's if you think you can catch him."

Lucinda sputtered angrily as Narcissa walked away, her even footsteps not betraying the mirth she felt upon witnessing Lucinda's reaction when she saw Luc-_Malfoy_ kissing Prudence. She did allow a grin to break free when she realised how ridiculous their names would be. Lucius and Lucinda? How revoltingly sweet! Smiling to herself, she'd made it round the corner before a set of lighter footsteps became audible, and Narcissa turned to see a skinny second year boy following her.

"You made her mad," he said through the straggly hair hiding his face.

"I know, Severus. But she's got someone to be even madder at, now," Narcissa pointed out, and offered him her elbow. He inclined his head in acknowledgement before taking her arm with a mock bow, and the odd pair headed for the library. Narcissa smiled down at him. "Tell me about that levitating spell you were thinking about!"

Snape's mien brightened considerably at this, and his other hand began gesticulating wildly as he spoke. "Well! I'm pretty sure I have the incantation I want, but I need to work out the wand movements because I want to shift the focus…"

Nodding in all the right places and offering suggestions and sounds of agreement, Narcissa soon forgot the incident in the corridor and what had led up to it. There were far more interesting things to think about.

**ooooooooOOOOoooooooo**

The last weekend of September was a Hogsmeade weekend, so naturally the Common Room was buzzing with chatter about who was going with whom and what shops people would visit. Even Caterina, who normally didn't irritate Narcissa at all, was getting on her nerves with her gushing about exactly how sweet Alistair Pucey had been when he asked her to go with him. Realising that staying in the Common Room was not conducive to keeping her sanity, Narcissa took advantage of the relative quiet of the library on Friday evening to complete her Astronomy homework in what she hoped would be peace. She was about two thirds of the way through her essay when someone slid into the chair opposite her.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile, not looking up from her parchment. Stunned silence greeted her, and Narcissa lifted her gaze, wondering why Severus hadn't spoken yet. Her smile immediately fell when she saw just who had decided to interrupt her.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

His surprised expression shifted into a lazy smile, and he reached over to pluck her quill from her fingers.

"Hogsmeade tomorrow, Black," he drawled, and gave her an expectant look.

Irritated and scowling, she stretched across the table to take her quill back, but he held it out of her reach, a small smirk playing about his mouth. Narcissa was unimpressed.

"Really? I must have missed the fliers and chatter and constant going on about it in the Common Room," she replied with false sweetness. "And give that back."

He gazed at her for a moment, idly twirling her quill between his thumb and forefinger. It was rather delicate, Lucius noted, and he glanced down at it, musing that she must have small hands to be able to write without crushing the shaft. The sound of her clearing her throat impatiently drew his attention, and one of those small hands was held out, clearly waiting for the quill to be deposited in her open palm. He did so, somewhat startled to have been caught daydreaming, and she snatched her hand back immediately.

"Really," he confirmed, his smirk widening. "You should go."

Narcissa stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, before haphazardly stuffing her belongings into her satchel.

"You should stop bothering me," she retorted, and stalked away, irritation obvious in every line of her body.

Lucius stared after her until he heard the library doors thud closed, at which point he stared at the tabletop. He was deciding whether or not to bang his forehead against it when someone slid into Narcissa's now-vacant seat.

"You're doing it wrong."

Lucius sneered, but then thought better of it. Though it clearly galled him to have to say it, his words were quiet but clear as he asked, "Can you help me, then?"

**ooooooooOOOOoooooooo**

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and unbearably muggy. Having no intention of sweating with the masses in the quaint but cramped stores, Narcissa waited for the horde of students to leave for the village before she made her way to her favourite spot on the grounds. Summer's last hurrah was making itself known in the form of oppressive humidity, and even her single lightweight robe stuck uncomfortably to her skin as she lay sprawled under the giant oak. Even the shade provided no respite, and Narcissa used her book to create a breeze, for there was none present.

The high moisture levels in the air created the illusion of heat, and it was uncannily close to the reality of an actual summer's day. It was too hot to read; too hot to _ithink/i_. The light musical splashing of water over rocks was inviting, though, and she turned a speculative gaze to the small inlet of the lake her oak presided over. The current was swift further out, and the lapping of the tiny waves along the pebbled shore was getting hard to ignore. Her shoes long ago abandoned, it was a simple matter to get her feet wet, and the gently moving water swirling about her ankles was cool and refreshing.

To swim or not to swim, that was the question.

It was while she pondered this that another splashing was heard, and she grinned, knowing without looking who was ankle-deep in the water beside her.

"If you do, you're on your own." Severus' tone was dour, but when she glanced at him, the corner of his mouth was quirked upwards.

"You don't know what I was thinking," she teased him. He did smile then, and shook his head.

"No, but I bet I'm right," he replied. He stood in the shallows next to her, trousers rolled up to the knee exposing pale, skinny legs, his shoes and socks scattered near her sandals and book under the tree. "I bet you were deciding whether or not it was worth swimming in your robes, since I also bet your wand is back in the dorms."

She blushed a little at that. Narcissa had a habit of leaving her wand in her room on weekends. She always completed her homework the day she was given it, and if she wasn't working on her Charms, she didn't see the need to constantly carry a wand. After all, she was a Black and a Slytherin – it was unlikely anything would happen to her. Unless she gave into the urge to take an impromptu swim, of course. Which, since Severus was being such a smug git about it, she just might do.

Stepping in front of him, she smirked. "I bet you have yours," she pointed out, and promptly kicked a wave of water over him.

Taking advantage of his utter shock, Narcissa turned and ran a few steps deeper into the inlet, before diving under the surface of the clear waters, not caring for the state of her robes. Severus always had his wand, and though he might be mad at her for splashing him at first, she knew he'd dry them both off.

Surfacing with a grin on her face, Narcissa was surprised to see Severus had thrown his outer robe up with the rest of their belongings and was wading further in before he too, dived under.

"Shut up," he said irritably when he reached her. His hair was plastered to his head, making his already prominent nose seem bigger than it really was. Narcissa privately hoped he grew into that nose, since he already garnered teasing for it, and it would only get worse as he got older. She raised an eyebrow.

"This sort of excessive humidity is ridiculous. It's hot, and I don't like it, alright?" He looked sour about admitting it, and she laughed.

"It'll be our secret, Sev." Her tone was light, but she meant the words. Severus was wickedly intelligent for a twelve year old, and good company if you could get past the sarcasm. He also didn't treat her any differently for coming from the family she did, and had as much fun studying for hours as she did. If he'd been four years older, they'd have probably been best friends.

He nodded, then threw himself onto his back, floating with arms and legs stretched out. Mirroring his actions, Narcissa sculled the water with her hands, pushing herself along til she could see him from the corner of her eye.

"You're so skinny," she teased him. "How you gonna catch yourself a husband with those knobbly knees and elbows, hmm?"

He flicked water at her, a grin threatening to break across his face. "I could say the same for you, you stick insect," he teased back, "except that _you_ seem to have caught _someone's_ attention."

Narcissa scowled at that. "I don't know that being the focus of an irritation campaign is the same as having his- someone's attention."

She gazed up at the patches of sky visible through the over-reaching branches of the oak, and sighed. Severus waited patiently, until – "He keeps _talking_ to me. What on earth does he want?"

She didn't need to name 'him'. It was clearly Malfoy, and Severus decided that in this case, honesty – such as it was to a Slytherin – was probably the best policy.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied, lying with a straight face. "Maybe," he drew the word out, "he likes you."

An unladylike scoff was her response, and she muttered, "That'd be just my luck. One more reason for Parkinson to get her hackles up, the pug-faced harpy."

She was silent for a moment, then stood abruptly in the chest-deep water, and began making her way back to shore. Severus followed wordlessly, and they walked barefoot back to the castle, Narcissa deep in thought and Severus stretching to keep up with her slightly longer stride.

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Your reviews are greeted with glee and enthusiasm by a very grateful author._


	2. October

_With thanks to KelleyPen for her brilliant beta job - any further errors are mine.  
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Chapter 2**

The weather had cooled considerably since Hogsmeade weekend's sultry heat, and Narcissa shivered slightly when a draft swirled her skirt around her knees as she returned to her dorm after Astronomy class. Not wearing robes over her uniform had been a foolish thing, but she hadn't found time to grab hers in her haste to leav e the Common Room. Engrossed in her novel, it wasn't until Severus expressed surprise to see her that she realised she was late for class. Ignoring Parkinson's snicker of derision from her newly achieved and much-coveted (if Caterina was to be believed) seat at Malfoy's side, Narcissa had grabbed her satchel and sprinted through the castle to her lesson – only to have to stay behind to polish, oil and pack away the telescopes as punishment for her tardiness.

Scowling slightly and wrapping her arms about herself in an attempt to ward off the cold as she walked, Narcissa conceded that it could have been worse. She could have received detention. Instead, she merely suffered the indignity of being upbraided before her peers, and a chilly walk back to the Common Room at midnight after a spot of menial labour. Thankfully the Professor had issued her with a pass to be out past curfew. Of course, she'd hoped not to need it, but the measured footsteps behind her dashed her hopes, and the sound of someone clearing his throat could be heard.

Biting her lip in consternation, she turned to face the other occupant of the corridor, and fought back a snippy response to the smug look on his face. Here was the worse she'd thought she'd avoided.

"I have a pass, Malfoy," she sighed.

He raised his eyebrows. "Did I say anything, Black?"

Lucius gestured down the corridor, indicating that she should walk with him. She did so rather grudgingly, but she had no real reason to refuse him, other than the fact that he irritated her no end. Besides, he could still take points… and he appeared to be waiting for an answer.

"No," she conceded, grudgingly. He hadn't, but he was Head Boy, and she was out after curfew, and she'd thought it prudent to pre-empt his question.

"Although," he said slowly, "I will confess to curiosity as to why you're out past curfew, and without your robes. A secret tryst, perhaps?" His tone was teasing, but there was a clipped quality to the last words that had her looking at him askance.

"Oh, yes," she replied, sarcasm fairly dripping from her tongue. "You caught me."

He looked startled at this.

"Honestly, Malfoy. If you must know, I was late to class, and had to stay behind."

She hugged her arms closer about herself, annoyed at having even a minor fault exposed, and even more annoyed that she even gave him the reason to begin with.

"I… find that surprising," he said quietly, looking straight ahead.

Narcissa pondered that as they walked in silence, trying to work out just which part of her statement had been surprising, before curiosity got the better of her.

"Fine, I'll bite," she sighed as they reached the entrance to the Common Room, weariness and irritation making her voice flat. He spoke the password and gestured for to precede him through the entrance, which she did, good manners having been drilled into her for so long that the fact that he even did so didn't register. "What do you find surprising?"

She turned to face him as she asked, and was annoyed to see a grimace of distaste on his face. About to berate him for his rudeness, she realised the cause of his expression when a distinctively nasal voice repeated her question.

"Yes, Lucius. What do you find surprising?" Lucinda's words were sweetly venomous, and Narcissa didn't bother to wait to hear his response. Ignoring the pair of them, she crossed quickly to the stairs leading to the girls' dorms, Parkinson's mocking tones following her.

"Go to bed like a good girl, little Cissy!"

Narcissa usually hexed people who called her that, but she made an exception in Parkinson's case. Opting for a very unladylike rude gesture instead, she was satisfied to hear the older girl splutter in outrage at Malfoy's snort of what she suspected was amusement as she descended the steps, rolling her eyes as Lucinda's voice became wheedlingly possessive.

"Where _were_ you? Did you forget…"

Blocking out the syrupy words, Narcissa reached her dorm and slipped inside, easily finding her way to her bed in the darkness. It wasn't difficult, she merely needed to aim for the patch of quiet between Caterina's delicate snores and Eleanor's deeper ones. Either sound was preferable to Parkinson's far from dulcet tones, and she thought she might possibly pity Malfoy for having to hear it. Not too much, though. She grinned to herself. Perhaps they were well suited after all – they were both equally irritating.

**ooooooooOOOOoooooooo**

"Parkinson has it in for you," Caterina muttered as she slid into her seat beside Narcissa. Neither girl was fond of Divination class, but they were imaginative in their predictions and enjoyed a cup of tea, so the Professor allowed the two a little more leniency than she would otherwise.

"I know," she whispered in reply, setting up their crystal ball. "But damned if I know why."

Caterina snorted quietly as she retrieved her Divination textbook from her satchel, opening it to the chapter on crystal gazing. Pushing her dark hair away from her face, Caterina gave Narcissa a _look_.

"Narcissa. Tell me you're joking."

Shaking her head, Narcissa raised an expectant eyebrow at her friend.

"Would I have asked for clarification if I was joking?" she replied quietly. "I know we're in Divination, Caterina, but clairvoyance really isn't my thing."

A muffled giggle was all the response she got, because the Professor chose that moment to wander past their table in a perfumed cloud of flyaway hair and trailing silk scarves. The girls contrived to look busy until she passed, and Narcissa elbowed the brunette in the ribs.

"Well?" she muttered. "I mean, she gave me some ridiculous warning about Malfoy of all people weeks ago, but she has him now, so I don't know what her problem is."

Caterina's expression was surprised, and almost pitying. "You really don't know?"

Exasperated, Narcissa thumped her own textbook on the table with more force than necessary.

"No, Caterina, I really don't," she whispered, annoyance colouring it to the point of harshness. "Care to elaborate?"

The dark-haired girl leaned close enough so their heads were touching, the better to ensure privacy.

"Rumour has it," she breathed near Narcissa's ear, "that Malfoy is only with her to shut her up, since he actually has his eye on you."

Narcissa blinked in disbelief.

"_What?_"

Several heads turned their way, interest and curiosity on their faces. Narcissa blushed, and lowered her voice.

"That's preposterous!" she hissed. "He does not! Have you been talking with Severus? What kind of hare-brained scheme is this? Besides, she has nothing to worry about. Luc- Malfoy is an irritating berk, and I have done nothing to encourage him, and I'm pretty sure your information is patently false. She can _have_ him."

She sat back with a huff.

"Shh, I believe you," Caterina soothed, and patted Narcissa's hand reassuringly. "I was just warning you, that's all."

Nodding, Narcissa gave the darker girl a small smile, and turned to their crystal ball.

"I foresee an itchy rash in an unmentionable place in the future of a bottle-blonde harpy," she intoned in a mystical voice.

"With undoubtedly Charm-enhanced curves," Caterina added, and the two began to snicker behind their hands, drawing the ire of the table next to them, until they calmed down and settled into the lesson.

**ooooooooOOOOoooooooo**

Very few students took the Evening Prophet, mostly Ravenclaws and the Slytherins with their eyes on a government job. So a post owl dropping a letter in front of Narcissa Black during dinner was noteworthy and cause for speculation, even more so when it didn't wait for payment.

Laying aside her knife and fork, Narcissa dabbed at her hands and mouth with her napkin before opening the missive with studied disinterest. The expensive parchment rustled satisfyingly as she unfolded it, and she took a brief moment to appreciate the texture under her hands before she read the letter. Recognising the elegantly hasty scrawl as belonging to her oldest sister, Narcissa frowned in confusion. Bella never wrote to her; it wasn't her style. She was far more likely to just show up if she wanted to talk. It wasn't until she got past the "Darling Cissy," that Narcissa realised why her sister, usually a poor correspondent, had written, and her face automatically assumed a forced neutral expression as she read.

_ …gone off and married a Mudblood. Aunt Wally burned her off the tapestry as Mama refused to do so,and Mama has since taken to her room in despair. There is much weeping and wailing and slamming of doors; I am glad I no longer live here. Uncle is swearing blind that he knew this would happen, the daft git, and Papa is enraged. He is talking of making a contract to make sure you don't do the same. I told him you were better than that, but he won't listen._

_I hope you've caught someone's eye, Cissy-baby, because if you haven't, Papa will catch it for you._

_Your Bella_

Feeling the colour draining from her cheeks as she carefully re-folded the parchment, Narcissa became aware of an expectant silence at the Slytherin table, and the light touch of Caterina's hand to her arm made her glance around. Lucinda Parkinson, horrid cow that she was, had a copy of the Evening Prophet, held up so Narcissa would be sure to see the glaring headlines of the society section.

_**"BLACK DAUGHTER DISOWNED FOR MARRYING MUGGLEBORN"**_

"_**TRUE LOVE: DOES IT CONQUER ALL?"**_

**"_OUR THEORIES BEHIND THE BREAK-UP __OF A FAMILY, PAGE 3"_**

And there was Andromeda's face, shyly smiling in her seventh year portrait, peering out at her, the Slytherin crest on her robes mockingly prominent in the picture.

Knowing she was only confirming the story by leaving the table, Narcissa still saw it as the only option, because she'd be a Squib before crying in front of anyone here. Standing smoothly, she climbed neatly over the bench and walked out of the Great Hall at an even, unhurried pace. Her chin was high and her expression neutral, and only the parchment crumpled in her fist gave any clue that she was anything but calm.

Severus Snape watched her go, her back proud and straight as she made her exit through the double doors. He knew she would be heading for the lake – it's where she always went if she was upset – but there was a storm due later. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that he would be up late tonight to comfort her when she came in. Not that he really minded. She was pretty, and smart, and listened when he spoke, and he thought they might even be friends. Shaking his head as he heard the outer doors bang shut, Severus went back to his dinner. She wouldn't thank him for chasing her.

**ooooooooOOOOoooooooo**

Perhaps walking around the lake for hours after lights-out in a bout of self-pity hadn't been the best of ideas. The skies had opened, delivering the promised rain, and catching Narcissa on the far side with her wand in her dorm, of all the stupid places to leave it. Since a drying charm was obviously out of the question, and deciding she couldn't possibly get any wetter, she stopped walking long enough to smooth out the letter, holding it out in front of her til the rain washed the ink from the parchment. She watched as it soaked through the page and ran off her hands, and only when it was completely illegible did she let it fall to the ground, not caring that it tore under her heel as she walked away.

No, this particular fit of pique had not been well thought out at all. Autumn rain was still rain, and still freezing, and Narcissa was forced to walk through the entire castle in soaking robes and squelching shoes, her long hair slowly drying into its naturally unruly waves. Her one consolation – other than Filch owing her a favour for permanently de-fleaing his cat and thus never reporting her on the occasions he found her breaking curfew – was that no one would be up to witness her bedraggled state.

Naturally, _he_ was in the Common Room when she got back. Of course it was too much to hope for it to be entirely empty past midnight on a Sunday when people should be sleeping. Did no one care about classes? A cursory glance around proved him to be the only visible inhabitant – and he held her wand, spinning it idly in his hands.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Where did you get that?"

He stood from the sofa, his tall frame unfolding til he filled her field of vision.

"Being Head Boy has its perks," Lucius replied, his usual drawl oddly absent. But Narcissa didn't notice, focussed as she was on the polished cedar he should _not_ have been holding. Irritation swept through her and she snatched her wand away, stripping off her sodden outer robes and drying them before throwing them carelessly on a chair.

Ignoring his dry chuckle, she kicked off her shoes and made quick work of wicking the water from the rest of her clothes. Finally dry, Narcissa raised her wand to her head, intending to Charm her hair back into its usual poker straightness. A hand closed over her wrist just as she was about to complete the final wand movement.

"You're doing it wrong."

Narcissa fought back a scream of frustration.

"What _now_, Malfoy?"

There was no mockery in his expression as he gently pushed her arm down.

"Your hair is fine. You don't need to charm it." Merlin, but she could almost believe he was being sincere. "It looks lovely… you look lovely."

And there was the lie.

"… Right."

Giving him a look that said she thought he was mad as a hatter, Narcissa twisted her hand away from his – why was he still holding her wrist? – and brought her wand back up to finish the coiffure charm. Muttering mostly incomprehensible insults about Malfoys and sanity, she gathered up her robe and shoes and stalked from the Common Room, stomping down the stairs to her dorm in a most unladylike fashion. So caught up was she in the absurdity of the situation that she completely missed the defeated sigh he gave as she left and was already in her dorm by the time he spoke.

"This isn't going to work. She doesn't like me."

"It will," a much younger voice answered him from the armchair facing the hearth. "And she does. She just hasn't realised it yet. Patience, Malfoy."

"Patience? _Patience?_ I've been patient for two sodding months, Snape! Nothing I do is right – she thinks I'm a pretentious git, and she barely looks at me!"

The expression of utter misery on Malfoys face was something to behold, Snape thought, and he resolved to put this memory in his Pensieve for Narcissa to chuckle over in later years. He knew her better than she thought, and Malfoy was getting under her skin.

"Trust me. She's coming around."

Lucius gave him a woebegone look. "She isn't."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. _This_ was what had all the girls swooning?

"She didn't snap at you, did she?" He pointed out. "She didn't push you away, threaten to hex you, or insult you to your face. I'd say that's progress."

He grinned at the older boy. "Next time, try using her name."

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Your reviews are treasured._


	3. November

_Thanks to lj user="kelleypen"'s brilliant beta job, this is so much better than it used be. With love to those who've been so excited to read this._

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**Chapter 3 – November**

Peals of laughter echoed up into the Common Room from the stairwell to the girls' dorms, and several heads turned to discover the source. Most people went back to their conversations with a smile when Narcissa and Caterina entered, passing a letter back and forth, but one person got up from the sofas by the fireplace to meet them.

Dropping to one knee in front of an amused Narcissa, Mathieu deChevalliere held a folded letter up like an offering.

"My darling, my angel, ma chère, permit me to court you like the flower you are," he intoned reverently, though Narcissa could clearly see his mouth twitching in an effort not to smirk. She grinned conspiratorially, and held up her own letter.

"Does yours have an 'or else' clause?"

He did smirk, then. "It does not, ma petite fleur."

Narcissa thought for a moment, tapping the parchment idly into her palm, and trying not to look at Caterina, who was attempting to smother her laughter with her hand.

"I shall take it on assumption that you never mentioned The Horrible Week of Fourth Year to anyone, after all?" she asked, one eyebrow arching. They had attempted to act on a mutual crush. Shy glances, tentative conversations and one fumbling, awkward, spectacularly unsuccessful kiss in a broom closet later, and they decided to be friends instead.

"I did not," Mathieu replied. "And I suspect you did not either, or you would not look so smug right now."

Inclining her head in agreement, Narcissa took both letters and crumpled them into a ball. Dispatching them with a quick _Incendio_, she said airily, "In that case, Mathieu, I find you frightfully dull and a tad boorish."

Mathieu climbed to his feet, a wicked grin on his face. "And you are vapid, and inclined to chatter too much."

"It was awful," she declared, holding out her hand.

"We simply do not get along," he agreed, placing a kiss to the back of it before pulling her into a hug.

"You two are ridiculous!" Caterina lost her battle, and was giggling uncontrollably. Mathieu winked at Narcissa and slung an arm around Caterina's shoulders.

"And you, ma chérie, have a dark beauty that has captured my soul," he replied, an amused twinkle in his eye.

"Git," Caterina scoffed, elbowing him in the ribs as he led her back to his sofa.

Narcissa rolled her eyes at Mathieu's theatrics, and headed for a small table where a skinny, dark-haired boy had laid out a chessboard, the pieces peering eagerly over the edge of their box.

Severus was always careful not to sit with his back to the room. Thus, he had a prime view of Narcissa's entrance, her discussion with the curly-haired French boy, and the ill-concealed interest of Lucius Malfoy in the entire goings-on. Severus wasn't the only one to notice the direction of Lucius' attention – the Head Boy had a lapful of hissing, angry Parkinson, who had also noticed her boyfriend's attention wasn't where it should be and was making her displeasure known.

Hiding a grin as Narcissa slipped into the chair opposite him, Severus remarked quietly, "I wouldn't like to be him right now."

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening at the small spectacle well on its way to becoming a full-scale argument. Turning back before she was caught watching, she asked quietly, "What happened there?"

Severus responded with a non-committal shrug, and Narcissa raised an eyebrow at her young friend as she reached for the white pieces.

"She's doing that flapping thing girls do with their hands when they're mad," Severus reported quietly as he removed the black pieces from the box, and Narcissa hid a smile. "Now she's off his lap, but he's doing the sneering scowl he does when he's talking to Gryffindors and other he considers beneath him."

Narcissa let her smile show at that, and looked down at the board, making sure her pawns were behaving. Glancing up to ask Severus what was happening now, the words died on her lips at the carefully blank expression on his face, ignoring the pawn tugging desperately at her finger. Sudden pain erupted in her shoulder, and the chess pieces were sent flying as Narcissa was shoved against the board by the passing of one very angry Lucinda Parkinson as she flounced towards the dorms.

"And now he's glaring at her like he wants to hex her," Severus added helpfully.

"So do I," Narcissa muttered, rubbing her shoulder and scowling at the older girl's retreating back. The action had been deliberate; there had been no need for her to pass them on the way to the dorm. "She really does hate me."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Have you worked out why?"

Narcissa looked away, unwilling to reply. Saying it out loud made it real, and she wasn't quite sure she was ready to accept that. Concentrating on rearranging her chess pieces, she didn't see Severus lean out slightly to give the tiniest of nods to a brooding Lucius Malfoy.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

A disadvantage to aiming for her Charms mastery was that her abilities now far exceeded her classmates, and Narcissa was bored. Only four students had successfully animated their tea sets, and of these, only Narcissa managed to get hers to dance the quadrille in correct formation. Caterina's tea set was obstinately polkaing, and Xavier's seemed to be performing precise military manoeuvres, despite being delicately pink and floral. A Gryffindor had also managed the feat, but Narcissa didn't think that jiggling in a circle qualified as dancing.

It was amusing end to a long day of classes, though, and she was entertained enough to not notice when a small first-year slipped into the room with a note.

"Miss Black?"

Professor Flitwick's piping voice did gain her attention, and she straightened in her chair, a subtle flick of her wand causing her teacups to bow to each other before settling onto their saucers.

"The Headmaster has requested your presence in his office," the diminutive man informed her kindly, and Narcissa began to pack her things away. He stopped her with a hand to her arm. "Miss Burke will take your belongings back to your common room."

Thoroughly confused, Narcissa glanced at Caterina, who nodded her assent with wide eyes, and with a grateful but slightly absent smile for her friend, Narcissa left the classroom.

Desperately trying to think of any transgressions she may have committed that would be cause for a summons to see Professor Dumbledore, Narcissa was forced to admit defeat when she reached the gargoyles. She could not think of any reason the Headmaster would need to see her, and worry set in. Had something happened to her family?

The presence of the Head Girl in the office only fuelled her suspicions, and Narcissa felt sick to her stomach at the overly kind smile from the statuesque brunette in the Gryffindor tie. Dumbledore's trademark twinkle did little to dispel her fears.

"Ah, Miss Black. Won't you sit down?" The old man's tone was kind, if serious, and Narcissa sank into the armchair that appeared behind her. She thanked him automatically, her attention focussed on the letter he held.

"It seems you have a visitor in Hogsmeade, my dear. While I wouldn't normally remove a student from class, I am willing to make an exception in this case."

That twinkle was worrying. Clearly Dumbledore knew who had requested her presence, and just as clearly he wasn't going to tell her. The Professor set aside the letter, and held out a bowl of lemon drops. Narcissa declined with a shake of her head.

"I cannot let you go alone," he continued, putting the bowl back and steepling his long fingers under his chin. "But your visitor has limited time, and you need to go now. Miss Jones has no class this session, and will accompany you to the village."

Narcissa blinked in surprise. Miss Jones was a Muggleborn Gryffindor she knew by sight only. Tall and darkhaired, the Head Girl had a reputation for not taking any nonsense, and was likely the do-gooder sort, going by the earnest expression on her face.

"Fine," she said abruptly. The choice was clearly out of her hands. "I'll need my cloak."

The Professor smiled. "It's on the hook as you leave, Miss Black. You'll be going to The Three Broomsticks."

**ooooOOOOoooo**

They'd made it halfway to Hogwarts' gates when Lucius intercepted them. He held tight to the elbows of two mutinous-looking first year boys in Gryffindor robes wet to the knee, and he did not look pleased.

"Jones. These are yours, I believe."

Narcissa watched in bemusement as the Head Girl took one look at the boys and breathed a long-suffering sigh.

"Creswell, Lynch. Not only are you out of class, but I have told you repeatedly to _stay away_ from the squid."

The boys opened their mouths, but Jones cut them off with a hand movement, and turned to Lucius.

"Malfoy, I'm supposed to be escorting Narcissa to Hogsmeade. Just make sure they get to class and I'll deal with them later."

Lucius scowled and pushed the boys forward.

"We're trading. Your housemates, your problem. Let's go, Black."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at his imperious tone, but given the choice of being accompanied by a Muggleborn or by an annoyance with a possible agenda, Malfoy was still the lesser of two evils. With a shrug of acceptance, she fell into step beside him, glancing behind once to see Jones berating the first years, gesticulating madly as she herded them towards the castle.

They walked to Hogsmeade in awkward silence. Narcissa could tell that Lucius wanted to say something, because she could see him from the corner of her eye. He'd open his mouth, then apparently think better of it and close it. Four times he'd done this, and she was about to ask him to just say it already, but they'd reached the village proper and she forgot about it in favour of meeting her mysterious visitor.

Pausing to remove her cloak just inside the door of the tavern, which Malfoy held open for her, Narcissa barely had the chance to turn around when an eager voice called her name.

"Cissy?"

Her head snapped up, and she took an involuntary step backwards, very nearly colliding with Lucius, who steadied her with a hand between her shoulder blades. Andromeda was walking towards her, an uncertain smile on her face. Narcissa felt the tell tale burn of tears beginning to well in her eyes, and she whirled around and walked straight back out of the tavern. Startled, Lucius grabbed her cloak and followed her, with Andromeda close on his heels.

"Narcissa, wait!" she called. "Let me explain!"

But Narcissa did not want explanations, and threw her hand up in the air in a dismissive gesture. So angry was she with her sister's sudden appearance after weeks with no word that she didn't even snap at Lucius when he laid her cloak across her shoulders.

Andromeda tried again. "Cissy, please hear me out…"

The baby nickname did it. Narcissa turned and marched back towards her sister, one finger pointed accusingly.

"Why should I? It's been four weeks! You didn't think it important to tell me until now – I had to find out from _Bella_."

Andromeda winced and began to reply but Narcissa hadn't finished. "Not that it mattered – your little escapade was all over the Evening Prophet. How hard would it have been to send me a letter? A _note_? Or do I not rate a moment of your time anymore – instead, I get a pity visit a month after the fact? The entire school knew before I did!"

The older girl looked stricken, and held out a pleading hand, the plain gold of a wedding band glinting in the late afternoon light. "Cissy, please. I never meant--"

"It's _Narcissa_," she snapped back. "I'm not a baby anymore, so stop using that stupid name."

The tears that had been threatening earlier spilled over, and Narcissa dashed them away angrily. Andromeda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Narcissa recognised the gesture as the one her sister used to keep from crying, but it was short-lived – Andromeda took a deep breath and stood tall, a determined expression on her face.

"Cis- Narcissa. I didn't want the life they planned for me," she said firmly. "I couldn't sit by and watch them blithely sign me over to someone I didn't like, or had never met. Yes, they've disowned me, but Ted and I are happy, and we don't regret this."

Her blue-grey eyes, so like Narcissa's own, flickered to where Lucius was standing quietly, before coming to rest on her younger sister.

"You'll understand one day, Cissy." She smiled wistfully, and Narcissa could only watch through her tears as her sister turned and walked to where a solemn but smiling dark-haired man was waiting. It wasn't until the crack of Apparition sounded that Narcissa finally moved, and then only because Lucius placed a hand on her shoulder and gently steered her up the winding path that led to the castle.

It was a measure of how hurt she was by what she viewed as Andromeda's abandonment that she didn't care that Lucius could see her crying openly, her shoulders slumped and head bowed as they walked. He had been uncommonly and almost respectfully silent, and it wasn't until they'd covered half of the return journey and the afternoon light had faded into twilight that he finally said something.

"Narcissa?"

Her given name sounded very different from his lips. Perhaps it was the way he said it – his arrogant drawl was missing, and his deep voice lingered a little over the vowels, drawing her name out til it was almost a verbal caress. Shocked into stillness at the sudden realisation that she _liked_ the sound of her name when he spoke it, she stared at him with wide eyes and wondered fleetingly what it would take to make him say it again.

Her reverie was broken when he reached out to brush away a tear with his thumb.

"You're doing it wrong."

Lucius spoke quietly, and his grey eyes held no trace of mockery or scorn. She knew immediately that he wasn't merely being facetious; in fact, he made an excellent point. Half the school, and certainly all of Slytherin, would know she'd been called out of class, and it would not do to return to the Common Room in tears.

Nodding her silent agreement, Narcissa lifted her chin and straightened her spine. The movement caused her cloak to slip, but Lucius caught it and put it back, his hands gentle. Narcissa noticed that he left his arm around her shoulders, but for some reason, she didn't shake it off. Perhaps she simply needed human contact.

**OoooOOOOoooo**

"Narcissa," he murmurs. His voice is low and rough with need, and she trembles in response. His breath is hot on her neck as he slowly drags his lips across her skin. His mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot and her hand rises to his neck, holding him where she wants him.

"There…" she breathes.

He chuckles. "There?"

She gasps as his teeth graze her collarbone. "Right there…"

"Good to know," he whispers, and begins to trail a line of teasing kisses down her chest to where her nightgown starts. Deft fingers slowly peel the garment away, replacing the simple cotton with hands and mouth and her back arches in eager response. He moves over her, hard against her hip and one strong thigh firm between hers as he lays hot, open-mouthed kisses on her feverish skin.

The sensations are overwhelming, and she reaches for him, entwining her fingers in his hair as she presses an almost frantic kiss to Lucius' mouth—

Narcissa sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide, breathing fast. The dorm was shadowed, the only light coming from the dimmed lamp by the door, and the quiet symphony of snores told her no one else had been awakened by her sudden movement. Pushing her slightly tangled hair back from her face, she reached for the small clock on her bedside table, which blinked sleepily at her before displaying the time. Three-seventeen. Narcissa grimaced, and flopped back against her pillows. Her heart was racing, and there was an insistent ache between her thighs, and sweet Circe on a bicycle, she'd had just had a pervy dream about Lucius bloody Malfoy.

It was probably just because he was the last person she saw today, she told herself, ignoring the fact that once they'd returned from the village she'd been to dinner with the whole school present and shared a dorm with four girls. Because really, there was no other reason for her to dream of him – besides which, it was usually famous Quidditch players in those sorts of dreams, with the occasional appearance by Xavier but only if they'd had butterscotch pudding for dessert. The way he ate that was positively sinful. So it must have been proximity to Lucius that caused it, she decided, as her hand moved downward. An anomaly, she told herself when her fingers met slick heat. And it would never happen again, she promised, biting her lip as pleasure mounted. Never, she repeated, and sweet release swept through her.

Closing her eyes as her body relaxed, Narcissa drifted back to sleep, all thoughts of blonds with deep voices and gentle hands banished.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Covering a yawn as she slipped into the seat beside Caterina at the breakfast table, Narcissa eyed the large bowls porridge with distaste. No matter how much honey she put in it, rolled oats still felt and tasted like sawdust in her mouth, and she couldn't fathom how so many students were happily eating it. Taking some toast instead, she was reaching for the tongs on the platter of bacon when someone else did the same, and warm fingers closed over hers. A jolt of awareness shot through her, and she glanced up to meet the grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy, who was seated opposite her and whose hand was covering her own.

Oh Merlin. His hands. Last night's dream came rushing back and colour flooded her cheeks as the memory of just what she'd imagined those hands doing appeared in the forefront of her mind. Snatching her fingers away as if burned, Narcissa stood abruptly from the table.

"Bacon… you have it," she stammered, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. Had she bothered to look around her, she'd have seen Caterina giving her an odd look, Mathieu a curious one, and Severus hiding a smile. But she didn't. She couldn't. Lucius said something in reply, but she didn't hear it. Forcibly tearing her gaze from his, Narcissa hurried from the hall, ignoring Caterina's cry for her to wait. Slughorn wouldn't mind if she was early to Potions, and really, the further away, the better. Or anywhere he wasn't, really.

So focussed was she on getting away that she didn't even notice that she practically bowled Lucinda Parkinson off her feet on the way out, nor that the older girl simply stared after her.

* * *

  
_Your thoughts and opinions are cherished._


	4. December

Chapter Four – December

December was never usually this tense. Narcissa generally enjoyed the Christmas season, with the exception of the charmed mistletoe strewn at inconvenient locations around the school, but this year – this year she had more reason than ever to take circuitous routes through the castle.

Lucius Malfoy was stalking her. She knew it. There was no other conceivable reason for him to be within her field of vision, or hovering just outside it, whenever she wasn't in class. He never did anything, and he always seemed to have a legitimate reason for being where he was – not that she was noticing his exact doings in the slightest – talking to other students or Quidditch players, looking very handsome in his winter uniform with his green and grey scarf arranged just so.

Not that she noticed that, either.

In fact, Narcissa was so busy not noticing any of these things that a collision with Lucinda Parkinson was both inevitable and surprisingly unexpected. It was also going to be unwelcome and uncomfortable, if the fingers digging too fiercely into her arm as she was dragged into a washroom were any indication.

"What have you done to him?"

The words were hissed and angry, and Lucinda's face loomed far to close to her own for Narcissa's comfort.

"Nothing," she snapped back. "I've done nothing."

The older girl shot her a venomous look.

"Don't _lie_ to me," she growled, and Narcissa was startled to see the signs of poor sleep on Lucinda's face. There were dark circles under her normally bright brown eyes, and taller blonde's skin was dull and lifeless. "You've done something, I know you have – he can't take his bloody eyes off you, and I won't have it! He's not yours!"

"I haven't!" Narcissa protested, trying to shake her arm from Lucinda's hold. "If you're so obsessed with his every movement, you'll know I haven't encouraged him at all!"

Which was true. She hadn't encouraged him in the slightest. Of course, she hadn't actively discouraged him, either – but it should have been obvious to Lucinda that it was Lucius doing the chasing, not Narcissa.

"See that you keep it that way," Lucinda glowered, then leaned right in to emphasise her point – so close that Narcissa could see the veins under the shadowed skin below Lucinda's eyes. "I know you'll be at all the parties this holiday – but I'll be there, too. And I'll be watching you, Black."

With that, Narcissa was shoved unceremoniously into a toilet stall, bruising the backs of her legs against the bowl before she caught her balance. By the time she'd righted herself, the only evidence of Lucinda's presence was an echoing slam.

Hobbling towards the sinks, Narcissa started in uneasy surprise when the door opened again, only to sag with relief when a skinny dark-haired boy slunk through the gap he'd created.

"I saw Parkinson come out of here looking like she'd achieved something," Severus muttered, looking uncomfortable about being in a girls' washroom.

Narcissa grimaced, and removed her outer robes to inspect the damage to her calves and knees, sighing when she spotted the already-blossoming bruises and the tear to one of her stockings.

"She was warning me away from Malfoy again," she sighed, slipping a hand under her wool skirt to unclip the damaged stocking, before stepping out of her shoe and removing the torn garment. "As though I haven't been steering clear of him for a whole month."

Smiling gratefully when Severus took the stocking and held it so she could charm the weave back together, Narcissa pretended not to notice his lack of response. She was doing an awful lot of not noticing, lately.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Severus Snape was doing an awful lot of noticing, lately. After escorting Narcissa to the hospital wing to have her bruises seen to, he noticed Lucius Malfoy attempting to look inconspicuous at the other end of the corridor. He also noticed the mistletoe conveniently hanging nearby, and stopped several feet away, unwilling to be caught by it's charmed presence.

"Snape," the older boy greeted him.

"Malfoy," Severus returned, then waited.

It didn't take long.

"Is she alright?" Lucius nodded in the direction of the doors to the hospital wing, making clear both his concern and the fact that he was most definitely aware of Narcissa's movements within the school.

Severus nodded.

"Minor bruising, to her legs and her pride." He gave Lucius a thoughtful look, then ploughed on. "You need to have a word with Parkinson. If you want any sort of chance with Narcissa, it won't happen while that harpy still thinks she owns you."

Lucius scowled at this, but nodded. He'd only agreed to date Lucinda for two reasons – to get her to shut up, and to make Narcissa jealous. He wasn't stupid; he could see that neither reason had worked. Lucinda still nagged at him, and Narcissa still avoided him.

"I'll speak to her-" he began, but the doors down the hall opened, and the slight blonde girl exiting the hospital wing caught his attention. Realising he'd been all but forgotten, Severus ducked into an alcove to watch in amusement as Lucius walked confidently down the hall and pretended to be surprised by Narcissa's presence.

"Narcissa!" he exclaimed. "Were you unwell?"

Hiding a smirk as he saw Narcissa's shoulders stiffen in response to her given name, Severus waited patiently for her response.

"It was nothing, Malfoy…" A pause, then, "But thank you for your concern."

"Of course," Lucius replied smoothly. "Allow me to escort you to your next class. I'd hate for you to lose points for being late."

Severus grinned. Her next class was Transfiguration. He knew it, Lucius knew it, since he'd learned her schedule, and the most direct route to her classroom took them right under the mistletoe several feet from where Severus was hiding. He had no wish to witness the usual result of standing under the little bunches of hanging poison, so he hunched into a tiny ball as they passed, then slipped down the corridor as soon as he was able.

Lucius knew Severus was there. He'd made sure Narcissa walked on his other side so she wouldn't learn of her friend's complicity, and he was ecstatic to note that while she held herself stiffly and walked a good foot or so away from him, she nevertheless matched his pace, and was even allowing polite small talk.

"Are you looking forward to the holidays?" he asked, after some minor chit-chat about the weather, and knew immediately from her suddenly blank expression that he'd asked the wrong thing.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy the party season," Narcissa replied, her tone stiffly correct and her eyes deliberately looking straight ahead.

Lucius wracked his brain desperately for an appropriate response.

"I'll look forward to seeing you at the Lestrange's Christmas Eve gala, then," he tried, then hid a wince at her slight flinch. Her reactions were unusual, and he began to wonder if Severus' assertion that Lucinda was still making things difficult extended to her threatening Narcissa while she was away from school, too.

He frowned at this, expression darkening, and they walked in uncomfortable silence – until Narcissa tripped. Lucius' arm immediately flew out to catch her fall – and suddenly he couldn't move, either. A glance upwards confirmed the presence of the charmed mistletoe preventing any further movement down the corridor, and a slow smirk crossed his face. He'd forgotten about it, in his irritation with Lucinda, and the scowl on Narcissa's face said the same thing.

"I'm not kissing you, Malfoy," she declared, shaking her arm from his grip and lifting her chin obstinately.

"Aren't you?" he drawled, his gaze travelling from her eyes to her mouth and back again, his smirk growing at the pink blooming in her cheeks.

"No."

She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Not even to get to class without getting in trouble? It would look awfully suspicious if we both skipped class this session," he pointed out.

Narcissa's expression turned mutinous. She was very proud of her marks, and he knew it, and she hated the thought of skiving off. But after today's little run-in with the Bitch Queen of Slytherin, there was no way on earth she was kissing Lucius Malfoy no matter how much she wanted to. Which she didn't, so the point was moot, and suddenly he was a lot closer to her.

"…what are you doing?"

Her voice was weak, and she couldn't believe such a pathetic, girly sound had come from her.

"Stopping you from getting in trouble, of course," Lucius replied, his voice low and smooth, and his gaze pinning her where she stood. His eyes were grey, she noticed, but not just regular grey. There were flecks of blue in the steely grey of his irises, and a ring of darker grey, almost a charcoal colour, around his pupils, and they were quite lovely, actually, even when they were closing-

-Narcissa turned her head at the last second, and his lips met the corner of her mouth, landing mostly on her cheek. He lingered there for a moment, his breath whispering over her skin, and Narcissa wondered why she hadn't moved away. He straightened up, and the sudden stab of disappointment in her gut took her by surprise.

She stared at him, speechless, before whirling away and almost running down the corridor.

Lucius watched her go, a ridiculous grin on his normally haughty features. The kiss had been close enough for the mistletoe to approve, and that was enough for him, for now.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Druella Black was an elegant woman, tall and poised with an almost regal bearing. Narcissa envied almost everything about her, until a welcoming smile broke the woman's publicly neutral expression, and the envy was replaced with joy at seeing her mother again.

Waving at her from the door of the train, Narcissa was so focussed on her mother that she didn't notice that the hand helping her alight from the train belonged to Lucius Malfoy. Druella noticed, but didn't allow it to enter her expression, instead greeting her daughter with the customary cheek kisses and allowing Narcissa to take her arm.

"How was term, darling? Professor Slughorn spoke quite highly of you last time he wrote to us…"

Lucius watched as Narcissa and her mother left the platform, two heads of hair in the same lustrous shade of blonde making them easy to spot, until they disappeared through the barrier. With a slight sigh, he turned to reboard the train and retrieve his trunk, and paused. Lucinda Parkinson was blocking the door to the carriage, and she did not look pleased. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes – did she not realise she was merely there to help him pass the time? – Lucius indicated that she should precede him back into their carriage.

"Lucinda," he began, his tone formal. "We need to have a little chat."

The colour drained from her face, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a gesture.

"It's been… a pleasure, but we are no longer seeing one another." He was brisk, businesslike. "Don't try to win me back, don't harass anyone I may or may not approach in the future, and don't badmouth me, or anyone I date after you. There will be consequences."

He paused, then, at the lone tear on her cheek, and reached out with a surprisingly gentle hand to wipe it away.

"I have no wish to hurt you, Lucinda, but I cannot in good conscience continue to see you when I wish you were someone else. That's not fair on either of us."

She simply stared at him, fury slowly overtaking the agony in her gaze. He recognised it, but knew she was not willing to risk his wrath if it should bubble over. The Malfoy name was far above the Parkinson's in every way that counted, and many more that didn't, and she knew it. Grasping her chin in his hand, Lucius met her gaze wordlessly until the angry light had faded to resigned acceptance. Nodding once, he exited the carriage, turning in the door for one final remark.

"I'll see you at the gala, I'm sure… and Lucinda? Any more violence towards Miss Black, and you'll wish you'd never heard the name Malfoy."

**ooooOOOOoooo**

If one more minute yet apparently essential adjustment was made to her dress or hair, Narcissa was going to scream. Her elegant strapless gown already fit her perfectly, the little tweaks and charms Druella was performing on the waistline and hem were unnecessary and annoying, but Narcissa knew better than to argue. She'd protested at the extra gloss charm to her hair, but shut her mouth when Druella asked if perhaps she'd prefer it to be green.

"Sorry, Mama," she'd whispered. "It looks lovely, really."

And it did; the elegant cascade of soft curls tumbling down her back was interspersed with tiny, winking diamonds. These, and the diamond studs in her ears, were her only adornment; Druella had decided the ice-grey silk of her gown was statement enough, and when Narcissa stood before her reflection in the mirror, she had to agree that the whole effect was rather nice.

Then she wondered just why she was Ithis/I dressed up for a gala, brother-in-law's family or not – and when their Portkey deposited them in the foyer of the Lestrange Manor, she knew. Abraxas Malfoy was already there with his son, speaking with the Lestrange patriarch and his wife. Druella and Cygnus were immediately greeted by the adults, leaving Lucius to greet Narcissa.

The predatory gleam in his eye as he bowed over her hand was unmistakeable, and she cursed the fluttering in her stomach even as she snatched her fingers from his grip as soon as it was polite to do so. A sidelong glance at her mother revealed nothing; if this little meeting had been planned, it was being done with more subtlety than she'd learned yet.

Quietly fuming as he offered to escort her to her seat, she took his arm with all the icy dignity she could muster – and when a flurry of arms, legs and mischievous grin barrelled into her, she'd never been more glad to see her cousin in her life.

"Sirius," she hissed, though her eyes were twinkling, "Mama spent hours on this gown, she'll murder you if you ruin it!"

Sirius' smirk was cocky as he took in her escort, and the glower Lucius was giving him.

"Sorry, cuz! But Reggie won't come out of the powder room – keeps muttering about his bowtie," he grinned. "Reckon you should help him out!"

The look Narcissa gave him was so full of gratitude that Sirius wondered if interrupting them had been quite the genius idea he'd originally thought, but by then it was too late. Narcissa had muttered a hasty apology to Lucius and swept from the ballroom. Turning a smug gaze to the now furious older boy, Sirius was pleased to see that Isomeone/I had been annoyed by his interruption.

"You look pissed, Malfoy," he quipped – then all the colour drained from his face at the look in Lucius' eyes. "So… I'll go get her back, then!"

And he was off, robes flying as he weaved in and out of the guests.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Aching feet was a usual side effect of a ball, and Narcissa, while never unpopular at these events, was in near agony as midnight drew near. Her dance card had been two-thirds filled by the time she found her seat for dinner, and completely full after her turn around the floor with her father. She'd sat out only two dances – both tangos, because her mother forbade it.

Realising her next dances belonged to Octavius Goyle, followed by Augustus Crabbe, and knowing without doubt that the pair of them were drunk as lords in the gardens, Narcissa took the opportunity to slip from the ballroom and into one of the many parlours in the Manor. She exited the first one rather hastily upon discovering the activities of its occupants, and chose a smaller one she'd remembered further down the hall. The moonlight was sufficient illumination, so she didn't bother to light the lamps as she sat on a chaise and slipped her aching feet out of their satin prison. Sighing with relief as she wriggled her toes, she nearly shrieked in terror when a hand closed around her ankle.

"You're doing it wrong," an all-too-familiar voice drawled.

She could just make him out where he knelt at her feet.

"Lucius Malfoy, I swear to _Merlin_, if you don't let me go, I'll – I'll…" but she couldn't finish her sentence, because his thumbs were digging into the ball of her foot, gently soothing the ache out of it.

"Oh…" she sighed, and didn't protest as he lifted the other one to give it the same treatment.

"You'll what?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep, and a tiny bit smug.

Narcissa couldn't remember the rest of her threat, not even when he grew more daring and moved his hands up to her ankle.

Deft fingers pressed firmly yet carefully into muscles she didn't even realise she had, much less knew would benefit from his ministrations, and Narcissa relaxed slightly as the tension in her feet began to ease. He was no more than a dark shape in front of her, except where the moonlight shone on his hair. Even then, he was in shades of grey, the wan light washing out the brilliant platinum of his locks to muted silver. She had no problem focussing on his eyes when he looked directly at her, though, and it was only when he blinked that she tore her gaze away.

His hands were halfway up her calf, coaxing the stiffness from the muscles with slow, firm strokes of his fingers. Narcissa wasn't sure why she didn't stop him when he reached for her other leg, but found she couldn't quite bring herself to say anything when skilful fingertips began to work gently on that ankle, too.

Silence reigned in the darkened parlour, broken only by their breathing, her occasional sigh as tired muscles were eased, and the faint sounds from the ballroom echoing oddly through the halls. Finally daring to look at him again, she noticed he was attentive to his task, head bent in concentration as his hands ran over her calf. His touch was lighter now, as though he was memorising her skin, and she realised his fingers were drawing light circles right where Lucinda had bruised her. The purplish marks had been healed at the hospital wing, of course, so there was nothing to mar her skin at all, though Narcissa thought she looked rather pale in the shadowed room. She wondered if he knew what had happened, then immediately dismissed the thought; news of their break-up was known, but there were conflicting rumours as to whether it was permanent or not, despite the fact that he'd avoided the other girl all night. Now that she thought about it, Lucinda hadn't bothered her, either… and his hands were still gently stroking her leg, her foot somehow in his lap.

A sudden burst of laughter followed by the slamming of a door brought her back to herself, and she snatched her leg away from his grasp, wondering when he'd managed to get her skirts to her knees. Leaping up, she hastily shoved her feet back into her shoes and all but ran from the parlour, and his horribly distracting presence.

Lucius was unperturbed by this, and exited the parlour with much more dignity. He was positive he'd managed to get under her skin, and the fact that her last dance of the evening was a waltz with his name on it gave his smirk a devilish air.

Entering the ballroom a few minutes after Narcissa, he was surprised to feel a gentle hand on his wrist, and turned to see Lucinda, almost lewdly resplendent in a vivid red gown, gazing at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. He hadn't filled out her dance card, and she knew it, but she thought that perhaps…

"Good evening, Miss Parkinson."

The light in her eyes died, and Lucinda nodded once in bitter defeat. Her shoulders remained back and her chin up as she watched the boy she'd been sure was hers purposefully cross the ballroom to where that irritating little girl was sitting with her _mother_, and bowed over the insipid thing's hand. She grit her teeth as Lucius escorted Narcissa to the floor, and her fingernails dug into her palms as he swept the little brat into the waltz that should have been _hers_.

Warm fingers forced one of her fists open and pressed a glass of Firewhiskey into it. A drunk but still darkly handsome Reginald McNair was smirking at the swell of her breasts above her gown, and Lucinda hesitated only a second before knocking the drink back. At least he was on the Quidditch team, so hers social position wouldn't fall too much.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Worried that he was going to do something to embarrass her, Narcissa had accepted Lucius' dance for two reasons; his name was somehow on her dance card, and there was an air of 'you will do as you're told' emanating from her mother.

Surprised to be whirled around the floor in the most correct waltz she'd ever danced, Narcissa found herself actually enjoying the steps for what they were. Being able to glide across the floor with a competent partner was rare enough that the smile on her face was less fixed and more genuine as he guided her around the room, and she was actually a little sad that it had to end. Lucius returned her to her mother with another small bow, and a formal kiss to the hand that was precisely the accepted length, and with no secret flicks of the tongue or tickles to her palm.

He'd been a perfect gentleman, and if Narcissa was a little dazed as she took hold of the Portkey with her parents, and wandered to her room with a more than slightly distracted air, then Druella was careful not to say anything. She thought that perhaps she and Cygnus would need to have a word with Abraxas at some point soon, though.


	5. January

_It's been a while; thank you for sticking with me. Your reviews and alerts on this and other stories during this unexpected hiatus have been very heartening. _

* * *

**Chapter Five**

The morning of New Year's Eve dawned grey and dismal, the skies filled with clouds that threatened heavy snowfall at any moment. Narcissa spent the day being ignored by her mother, who possessed the amazing ability to be everywhere at once, overseeing preparations for tonight's party. Druella Black insisted that this evening be perfect, and as such, Cygnus Black wisely took refuge in his study, and their youngest daughter was left to her own devices.

To Narcissa, this meant spending most of the morning in her windowseat wrapped in a blanket and reading a vaguely salacious romance novel. She ate lunch in the bathtub, then proceeded to soak in it til her hair hung limply in stringy and her fingers and toes turned wrinkled and pale. An indulgent nap took her through til mid-afternoon, when an elf woke her to get ready, at which point another leisurely soak was taken, this time with her hair receiving more care. Throughout the day, Narcissa had seen neither hide nor hair of anyone actually related to her, and she began to wonder, as she sat at her dressing table in her undergarments and began to brush out her hair, if perhaps she could avoid this evening's festivities by way of accidental oversight.

The arrival of her elusive mother interrupted her musings, the elegant blonde's arms full of midnight blue silk.

"Why aren't you ready?" Her mother's panicked tone belied her chic and unruffled appearance.

Narcissa nodded at what appeared to be her dress, flowing from Druella's arms to the floor in a rippling flow of material.

"You haven't given me my gown, Mama."

Clucking her tongue in realisation, her mother motioned for Narcissa to approach, and held the gown out for her to step into. The folds of silk settling around her, the unsightly bunching waistline and the gaping neck made it immediately apparent that the measurements were incorrect. Narcissa could clearly feel air flowing between her back and the row of buttons holding the gown closed. She could also hear her mother struggling to contain her irritation.

"Take it off. I'll have Missy adjust it; she'll find you when it's completed."

Stepping out of the gown, Narcissa barely had her foot clear of the mass of silk before Druella was gone. In her haste to leave, her mother had neglected to instruct her as to the arrangement of her hair, nor what she was to do with the hour before the guests were due. Narcissa quickly decided to take advantage of this unexpected loophole, and she curled up in her windowseat, her novel open in her lap.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Utterly caught up in Prince Rogier's adventures under the skirts of the kitchen wench, Narcissa did not hear her door open. The footsteps making their stealthy way across her bedroom were muffled both by design and the thickness of the carpeting, and she fairly shrieked in surprise when her vision was obscured by a mass of something dark and heavy. It wasn't until she heard the delighted laughter of her sister that she stopped fighting the obstruction.

"Bella! Get it off me!"

Her sister's smiling face came into view as she relented and removed the gown from Narcissa's head.

"Hello, Cissy-baby! Did you miss me?" Bellatrix crooned. The rubies dangling from her earlobes swayed gracefully against her pale neck, shown to advantage by her elegant upswept hair. Narcissa sighed. She would never, ever be as stunning as her sister.

"Desperately. But that's no reason to smother me with my gown."

Bella laughed, rich and low.

"So it isn't. But you'd be such a pretty corpse, you know, all blonde and pale and slim, and all that blue would really set you off – like a dying star in a midnight sky."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose.

"Must you be so morbid?"

But she stood, and allowed her oldest – and now only – sister to assist her to dress, ignoring the tightening of the gown as the buttons trapped her inside, pretending she didn't feel the occasional scratch of Bella's rings and fingernails on the smooth skin of her back, and smiling brightly at the kiss that was dropped on her bare shoulder.

"You look divine, darling girl. Let me fix your hair, and then we'll go make an entrance, hmm? Impress all those people you're being dolled up for."

Unable to form any response but a nod, Narcissa allowed Bellatrix to coax long, loose curls from her untidy waves, pulling part of it back and securing it with a diamond clip. Truthfully, Bella could have given her bright pink spikes and she wouldn't have noticed, because all she could see in the mirror was the expanse of creamy skin above the strapless neckline of the gown. The notch in her collarbones supported a solitary diamond pendant that only served to highlight her breasts, pushed high against the midnight silk, creating a cleavage even she didn't know she had. It wasn't vulgar by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd never looked like this in her life, and she began to wonder whether perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Unusually distracted by her own reflection and the marvels Bella had wrought with a few simple maquillage charms, Narcissa neglected to cast comfort charms on her shoes, and sorely regretted it as she was steered around the room by yet another eligible Pureblood with his eyes firmly fixed on her décolletage. Smiling tightly at him as the music finally drew to a close, her slight limp as he escorted her to her seat was not feigned, and Druella gave her a disapproving glance when she sat without thanking him.

Glowering slightly, Narcissa nodded once in the dark-haired young man's direction, noting with distaste that he still wasn't looking at her face.

Sighing in relief as he left, she murmured to her mother, "If I never see him again, it will be too soon. Did you see where his eyes were?"

But if Druella replied, Narcissa didn't hear it. She could feel other eyes on her, and her searching glance landed on Lucius Malfoy, sitting two tables away from them with his father. There was approval? and something else she couldn't quite name in his gaze, and she felt a blush beginning to rise in her cheeks.

Flustered, she reached for her champagne flute and drained it, ignoring her mother's clucked admonishment. Still stealing a glance from the corner of her eye, she was quite sure she saw him hide a smirk as he rose and walked purposefully towards them, and she glared at the tablecloth rather than look at him. Surely he wasn't going to ask her to dance. She'd refuse, of course – she certainly didn't want to dance with him, not after his little display of attention in the parlour at the Christmas Gala, followed by that ridiculous waltz she hadn't enjoyed in the slightest. Besides which, his name wasn't on her dance card. Her mother would never allow the breach in protocol, and Narcissa forced a cool glare onto her face as Lucius reached their table.

Scowling at her lap as he bowed politely at her mother, she ignored his blithe compliments about the party, and pretended she didn't hear her mother's warm replies. Didn't Druella see how annoyed she was by his presence? Didn't she realise how very much Narcissa hated every inch of his Malfoyness, and his hair, and his eyes, and the way he bowed over her own hand now and how on earth was she in his arms again? At what point in the conversation had she agreed to dance with him? Throwing a flustered glance over her shoulder at her mother, Narcissa was dismayed to see Druella's social mask firmly in place, the only sign of her approval being the fact that Narcissa moved across the dance floor with Lucius in the first place.

Fuming quietly as he guided her across the floor, she did her level best to ignore him. His smooth steps that so perfectly matched her own were of no consequence, and the fact that he hadn't once forced her to break her hold in order to leer at her was… well, she supposed that was gentlemanly enough. She firmly pushed down the small part of her that wished he _would _leer, and fought to keep her expression neutral as he lead them around an increasingly crowded dance floor – until it became so crowded he was forced to halt their movement. Glancing about in confusion when she realised that although they had stopped dancing, he had yet to relinquish his hold, she found herself looking directly up at him. He really did have the loveliest eyes…Frowning slightly as someone jostled her closer to him, it occurred to her that everyone was counting backwards.

The room suddenly erupted in cheers, and Narcissa blinked, startled at the unexpected noise. Realising the reason for the crowd's joyous outburst, she flushed slightly, and presented her cheek for the traditional kiss to welcome the New Year.

Lucius chuckled, and leaned forward to brush his lips lightly over her cheek. Keeping his face close, he murmured in a voice so low it was naught but warm air across her ear, "You're doing it wrong."

Something twisted in her gut, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Narcissa did not turn away when he moved to face her. She also couldn't explain why her eyes drifted closed as Lucius' lips met hers, nor why her mouth opened under his, nor why her arms wound their way about his neck. The room disappeared as he kissed her. It was gentle – surprisingly so, given the possessive way he held her – and despite her toes curling from the sensation of being pressed to him in the crowd, his kiss was chaste enough, though desire was evident. He gave, rather than took, and Narcissa was pleased not to have to force his tongue out of her mouth. Just as she was convincing herself that this was really happening, that she was allowing Lucius bloody Malfoy, of all people, to kiss her in a crowded room, and that she, horror of horrors, was _kissing him back_, an accidental shove broke them apart, and the riotously celebratory crowd swept her away from his arms. Flung from person to person as she fought her way to the edge of the dance floor, Narcissa was flushed with exertion as she finally broke free from the mass, not entirely sure she hadn't imagined the entire encounter.

She _could_ explain her dazed expression to her mother as a headache, though she wasn't entirely sure she was believed. The appraising look Druella gave her as she headed upstairs was noted – a distinct advantage to hosting these events meant her escape route was always assured; no one could breach the privacy charms at the top of the stairs – but since Narcissa sent an elf for a headache potion as she left, it couldn't really be refuted. However, she couldn't explain why she sought out a particular head of blond hair as she travelled along the landing, though, nor why she was pleased to discover grey eyes following her progress until she rounded the corner and out of sight. Champagne, she told herself, flopping facedown on her bed, still in her gown. Narcissa hadn't drunk more than a glass, but it would wear the blame nonetheless.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

"-I'm sure it wasn't what you-"

"-I know what I saw, and if you think-"

"-darling, I sincerely doubt it was-"

"-the way he was looking at her-"

"-you insisted on that gown, despite my objections-"

"-but at the Christmas Gala, too, and the station, before that. We need to speak to-"

"-are you sure that's necessary?"

"You'll write to him at once, Cygnus."

The door to her father's study flew open, and Narcissa crouched instinctively behind the banister on the stairwell. She'd been coming down to breakfast when the rare sound of raised voices floated up to her, and she couldn't help but pause to listen. Obviously her parents were discussing last night's party to ring in the New Year (the elves were still cleaning), but most of the pertinent details had been muffled by the oak door. Thankful that her mother didn't happen to glance at the stairs as she swept past, Narcissa crept carefully down the last of them and peered into her father's study.

"Papa?" Her voice was smaller than she would have liked, but when her father turned to smile warmly at her, she forgot that she minded and flew to hug him. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, sweetheart," Cygnus replied, smoothing her hair absently. "But is there anything you'd like to tell me about Lucius Malfoy?"

Narcissa held herself perfectly still. Anything, indeed. She could start with his constant staring, the fact that he thought he was better than she despite not having a lineage anywhere near the length of hers, the way he always hung around in her field of vision, his oddly comforting silence when Andromeda had shown up, that chaste little kiss he gave her under the mistletoe, his hands on her legs in a darkened parlour and the resulting dream she was determined to pretend had not happened because the first was an aberration so twice was worrying and the events of last night were pushed firmly to the back of her mind.

"No, Papa. Nothing. Why do you ask?"

If Cygnus felt her tense, he gave no indication, simply kept holding his youngest daughter, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Just your mother's fanciful notions, my love. Don't you worry about it."

**ooooOOOOoooo**

The sight that greeted her upon stepping through the barrier to Platform 9 and ¾ gave her mixed feelings. Seeing Lucinda Parkinson trying to climb down Reginald McNair's throat as he groped her bottom was not pretty, but she was surprised at the relief that filled her at the realisation that Lucinda and Lucius really had broken up – and she immediately chastised herself for feeling so.

Severus took her look of distaste at face value, however.

"Repulsive, isn't it?"

Narcissa glanced downwards to where the dark haired boy was sneering at the snogging couple.

"Just a little," she admitted, lifting her chin and moving past them, trunk in hand. "And it's certainly a step down, much as it galls me to admit it – oh, thank you."

Her trunk suddenly grew lighter, and really, Severus was rather slight, so it was kind of him to assist her. Turning to smile at him, her expression froze upon meeting Lucius' gaze.

"You're welcome, Narcissa," he replied quietly, with that annoying habit he had of making her name sound like it did when he spoke in her dreams. The subtle way he drew the out the vowels made her wonder if he practiced it. Certainly his lips made a pleasing enough shape as he formed the word, and oh, Merlin, he was still talking. "-than you do of McNair."

Blinking once, she ignored the laughter Severus was trying desperately to hide, and smiled brightly at Lucius.

"Yes, of course."

She ought to have been listening, because his face shone with triumphant delight, and she wondered what on earth she had just agreed on. Befuddled enough to allow him to guide her onto the train, Narcissa threw a last desperate look at Severus over her shoulder. He smirked at her, and she was certain he'd mouthed "you're screwed" before the crowd of students surged towards the locomotive and he disappeared.

**ooooOOOOoooo**

Lucius insisted on guiding her trunk to her carriage, despite her protestations that she was perfectly able to steer her own luggage, being an excellent student of Charms. Unsaid was the fact that she really didn't want him near her, since every time he spoke her eyes went to his mouth. It was incredibly disconcerting. Only the fact that hexing the Head Boy was a Very Bad Idea prevented her from doing just that, and it was an indignant and slightly irate Narcissa who merely pointed out the rack where she wanted her trunk to be stored for the journey once she found the carriage she'd be travelling in.

A dark-haired girl was already seated in the compartment, wide brown eyes above a copy of _Witch Weekly _taking in the almost silent scene with great interest.

One eyebrow rose as Lucius inclined his head to her fuming friend – Narcissa's body was fraught with tension, her shoulders set and her expression mutinous.

The other eyebrow joined it as the Head Boy wished them both a pleasant journey, though his gaze was fixed firmly on the blonde girl almost trembling in front of him.

Lucius left the carriage after smiling once more at her furious friend, "I'll be back to collect your trunk at the end of the journey."

"Narcissa." Caterina's face lit up with glee as Lucius left. "_What_ is going on?"

Managing to be haughty and blushing at once, Narcissa turned to draw the blind on their compartment door before casting several privacy charms on it. Taking a seat, she crossed her ankles neatly and raised an eyebrow at her dark-haired friend. Then her expression crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands.

"I don't know!" she wailed.

The magazine cast aside in favour of comforting her distraught friend, Caterina patted Narcissa's arm, and made soothing noises as the whole story came out in fits and starts. The mistletoe, the Christmas Gala, the ridiculously sensual yet entirely innocent footrub, that perfect waltz… the kiss to ring in the New Year. The tale was topsy-turvy and full of self-contradictory statements about her opinion of 'Bloody Malfoy', as she kept referring to him, but Caterina was fairly sure she'd caught the gist of it. Lucius liked Narcissa, and Narcissa, to her great horror, liked him back.

"Oh, Cissy," she sighed, holding the other girl close. "You're so screwed."

Narcissa muffled a sob against Caterina's shoulder.

"I know!"

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